Ancient oak stands proudly for its Royal fan

He’s the new Ranger of Windsor Great Park, as his father was before him.

The old tree, or what is left of it, looked long past its best, as though it was just waiting there for the next generation to arrive so it could finally lie down for its last rest.

Trees have always fascinated me – I have a great monster of a thing outside my home – and this interest probably goes back to my youth when, if you needed to escape parental wrath for some misdemeanour you could go climb a tree and be sure your mum had forgotten your bad behaviour by the time you returned.

Trees never get a fair deal in life. Even today they are chopped down by all and sundry for various purposes – to clear land for building, to produce firewood in vast quantities and to make furniture.

Where I was born in south Derry was right opposite a place we called `the plantain’. Despite being several acres in size it didn’t have any trees – not even little ones. This was down to the fact that when World War 11 broke out a number of plantations in the province were taken over by the Government, quickly cleared and turned into aerodromes. As was this one. Were the owners compensated? Probably not.

When the war ended those airfields were used just occasionally by military aircraft but by the year I was born, 1946, I believe they were abandoned completely so I and my siblings grew up with the perfect playground because all that was left standing were the few roughly built buildings and the Nissan huts.

Yet the one I lived beside is believed to have been there from the days of the Plantation of Ulster and before war broke out had trees of all descriptions including oak. So all that history was wiped out because the Second World 11 required numerous space for fighting planes to take off and land.

Toome airfield as the locals still know it had everything it required for accommodating the men who had to fight the war including Americans. When the war ended and the military disappeared lots of people came from all areas to help themselves to sinks, baths, furniture and electrical equipment.

Nothing was wasted. By the time the 1950’s arrived about the only thing left standing was the watch tower and some rough red bricked buildings, suitable for storing hay, even cattle. Even now, a few little places remain.

Today the area is scarcely recognisable. The old airfield, once bordered by a few small local cottages, has many modern homes nearby, some of them quite grand. And whilst their families in the past had to survive the screeching of planes coming back at all hours of the day and night, today it is peaceful and prosperous. And trees have returned.

The trees at my former family home (no longer there but a new one is in its place) many of which we children used for climbing, hiding and swinging remained there for decades but almost all have gone. So this week I envied the King his tree which I’m sure he has known from his childhood. His children I’m sure enjoyed it and so too will his grandchildren. They say trees never die it’s more to do with people getting fed up looking at them or needing the space to build something or even to have a better view.

I have six little pots in my windowsill, each with an acorn inside which I hope will flourish and eventually be planted. I won’t be alive to see them grow into big trees but hopefully someone will nurture and appreciate them one day. I will leave a letter behind to explain how I got them – I had to chase off a big black dog who wanted to scatter them. Maybe someone one day will have their picture taken beside them.